See No Evil
by Sweet Little Mary Sue
Summary: Bane had settled into his new life much easier than he would have ever believed was possible, but there is another storm brewing on the horizon. A plague arrives to take hold of Gotham City; an epidemic which causes those infected to lose their sight, and it has taken hold of the one of the people that Bane loves more than life itself...Bane/OC...Sequel.
1. A Smile on My Heart

See No Evil

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: Bane had settled into his new life much easier than he would have ever believed was possible, but there is another storm brewing on the horizon. A plague arrives to take hold of Gotham City; an epidemic which causes those infected to lose their sight, and it has taken hold of the one of the people that Bane loves more than life itself. A madman is on the loose, one who threatens to destroy all of Gotham City, and it is up to Bane to work with those who were once his enemies to stop him in his tracks, before all that he loves is lost to him forever.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Batman universe, believe me, I wish that I did, but I don't. I am simply borrowing a few of the characters from that world to tell this story. The only things that I can claim as my own are my OC's Malayna & Maelie Rhys, along with the loony that calls himself The Shroud, and any others that might wander in from my imagination. I also claim ownership of the characters that appear from my _Shy Violet_ story, those being Violet, Owen & Lily Hawkins, as well as Rose and Baby Hawkins, who have made their entrances after that story.

Just So You Know: This story is the sequel to my first Bane & Malayna story, which is titled, _Hear No Evil_. If you are unfamiliar with the details of that tale, then I would encourage you to give it a read before you proceed with this story. Of course, you are free to do as you please, I certainly won't press the issue, I just wanted you to know before you went any further. One other point of interest is that this story begins six months after the other one concluded, just in case you wanted to know.

Warning: This story is rated **M** for violence, mild to moderate cursing, instances that are disturbing in nature and an abundance of smuttiness.

Chapter One

A Smile on My Heart

Bane's POV

Someone was sitting on my belly and making their presence known by bouncing up and down, which awakened me immediately, of course, because who could possibly continue to sleep when they were being used as a trampoline? I knew that the hour of seven had arrived, because she woke me at the same time every morning, but I was tired, I would have preferred to sleep another hour, possibly even two. Unfortunately, my living, breathing alarm clock had other plans, just as she always did early in the morning.

"Good morning, Daddy," she said softly, mindful, just as she always was, to keep her voice down, so as not to awaken her mother. "The birds are singing, it's light outside, and that means that it's time to wake up, doesn't it, Daddy?"

I could have pointed out to her that it was possible, and, in some circumstances, preferable, to pull the covers up on the bed and cover your eyes and ears, so that you might sleep through the rising of the sun, and the incessant warbling of the birds who were always so damnably cheerful in the morning, but I knew that my doing so would only serve to hurt her feelings, so I kept those opinions to myself.

I cracked one eye and smiled, in spite of the reality that I was not a morning person, and the fact that I would have enjoyed sleeping until I was good and ready to rise, because Maelie was smiling at me, and who could possibly be cross, or even slightly ill-mannered, when the first thing that they saw when they opened their eyes was a sunny and genuinely happy smile, like the one that my daughter possessed?

"Good morning, Poppet," I answered, in a tone that was low and scratchy and filled with sleep, one that sounded slightly fearful, which might make a person think that I was being more hostile than I was, but thankfully Maelie knew better. "Is it time for me to rise and shine, my sweet?"

She giggled, a sound which, I would vow, made my heart smile in response, and then leaned forward to press a kiss, very softly, against my lips. "Yes, Daddy, you have to rise and shine, so that you can come outside with me and make a snowman before Grandpa Jimmy gets breakfast done. If we wait until after we eat, we'll only have about ten minutes to play before it's time for you to take me to school, and that's not long enough, is it, Daddy?"

Ugh…breakfast with _Grandpa_ Jimmy, _Uncle_ John and _Auntie_ Babs. It was the same thing every morning, the same faces, the same ceaseless chatter, so I do not know why I even bothered to complain, but I did so none the less, albeit to myself, because that was part of my morning routine. It was the same set of happenings that had been in place for the past six months, and it seemed unlikely that it would change anytime in the near future, so I vowed, once more, for the umpteenth time, that I would endeavor to persevere, no matter how much it vexed me to do so, both for Maelie's sake, and for my beloved Malayna's as well.

"No, my sweet, that is not nearly enough time for us to go about our building, so I will rise, and I will shine, and I will meet you outside in fifteen minutes. Is that timeline satisfactory to you, Poppet?"

She giggled again, just as I knew she would, and kissed me again before she scrambled off of the bed. "I'm going to get my coat and gloves on, and I'll meet you in the front yard….," she called over her shoulder as she ran out of the room, completely forgetting, just as she always did, that she was supposed to be quiet so that her Mama could sleep a little longer.

"Do not forget your hat, Maelie!" I called to her, unsure of whether or not she had heard me, but too absorbed in the sudden movement of my wife, too caught up in the tiny sigh that had just escaped her lips to chase after our daughter. She was an intelligent and responsible child, and she always remembered her hat, it was always on her head before I said a word, so there was no need for me to check, which was fortunate, because Malayna had just stretched on the bed, with her arms over her head, and the sight of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her gown was enough to make me forget myself.

I wondered if this need that I felt for her, this all-consuming, bone deep longing for her would ever lessen. I pondered if I would ever be able to look at her without feeling as if the bottom of my stomach was falling out. I wondered if I would ever be able to keep from going weak in the knees whenever she said my name. I could not say yes or no to any of these things, but the truth was that I hoped with all that I had that the answer was no. It was a weakness, to be sure, to love someone so completely, but it was a vulnerability that I welcomed with every fiber of my being, one that I encouraged, that I cultivated, that I…..

"Ifan?" she asked, drawing me from my reverie with a tone that was soft and filled with sleep. "I'm cold, honey…come back down here and cuddle with me for a little while."

It was not fair, that I had to choose between my daughter and my wife. I was not strong enough to say no to either one of them, I wanted to spend time with both of them, and give them what they asked of me, but how could I possibly give one of them the attention that they deserved without refusing the other….?

"Five minutes is all that I ask," she said, interrupting the guilt that was building within me before it could swallow me whole. "Then you ought to go outside and play with our munchkin before Jimmy finishes cooking breakfast. You know how important it is to him that we all sit down together in the morning, don't you, my love?"

I bit back a growl born of disgust, though it was not easy for me to do so. Of course I knew what was important to him, after all, he made a habit of telling me what he thought all hours of the day, did he not? What I did not know, what I apparently would never know, was why his word seemed to be the rule in our household. Maybe it was because he was the eldest, or perhaps the others had simply decided that he ought to be the one who was in charge, whatever the reason, his insistence upon dominion grated upon my nerves, and more than once I had been tempted to…..

"Time is slipping away, my love," Malayna said softly, in a tone that was filled with laughter, one that said that she had looked into my mind, as she was known to do, and had seen the furiously working cogs as they whirled 'round and 'round, fueled by my loathing for those that she insisted were _family_. "Wouldn't you rather spend a few precious moments snuggling with me, or do I hold so little appeal, when compared with your thoughts at present?"

She knew the appeal that she held for me, she knew that I adored her, that I, on some levels, practically worshipped her, and I let her know that her attempt at levity, and at teasing me, were not going to be tolerated, even though we both know that she could get away with murder, if she was so inclined, because I was an absolute pushover where she was concerned, putty in her hands, so to speak.

"A few moments is not nearly long enough to show you how fine you are to me, my dear," I told her, sliding her earpieces into place, so that she might hear every word that I said. "But I will take them, with the promise that I will be happy to prove to you how beautiful and enchanting and loveable you are later today, after I have taken Maelie to school. How does that sound to you, my love?"

Malayna's POV

My body was humming as I finished cleaning up the mess that we'd made during dinner. Jimmy was working late, just like he always did, John and Babs had gone to see a movie, and Ifan took out the trash for me and then he went upstairs and sat with Maelie while she took her bath. He'd promised me that morning that he would prove to me how much he loved me, and that was just what he'd done, that was what he'd spent all day doing, as a matter of fact, and I couldn't remember a more perfect day than this one had been. It was such a shame that I had to return to work tomorrow, but sacrifices had to be made, didn't they?

I could hear Maelie splashing in the bath above my head and rolled my eyes, thinking to myself that Ifan would let his little poppet get away with murder, should the urge take hold of her, and I suppose that I ought to have nipped that behavior in the bud, but the truth was that I didn't have the heart to do so. He'd missed out on so much, we all had, and I hated to ruin our moments together with rules and regulations. Granted, there were still limits, but not as many as I normally would have had.

I wished that Daddy and Momma could see me now and Granny as well, so that they could see how happy I was, and so they could get to know each and every member of my family, especially my husband and my daughter, but I just had to content myself with the notion that they could see us and that they were happy for me. I knew that it was difficult for Ifan, to live in this house with a surrogate family, but he did so none the less, because he knew how important it was to me, essential, even, to be surrounded by those that I loved, after all of the loss that I'd endured in my life.

I still had my conversations with Granny from time to time, but nowhere near as often as I did when I was by myself. She said that I didn't need her the way that I used to, and that I needed to concentrate my attention on those around me, rather than spending my time gabbing with an old woman. I'd told her, to begin with, that she wrong, and that I needed her just as much as I always did, but then I saw, as time went on, that there were days that went by without me hearing her, but I didn't notice, because I was too busy with my life.

I finished the dishes and drained the sink, and was all set to head upstairs, to comb Maelie's hair and help her pick out a bedtime story, but the phone rang before I could leave the kitchen. I looked at it and curled my lip, thinking to myself that it was more than likely a telemarketer who was calling, and I was in no mood whatsoever to listen to one of their spiels, but I answered it anyway, just in case it was something important.

"Hello?" I said, careful to keep my voice as neutral, yet discouraging, as possible.

"Malayna, I hope that I'm not calling too late, but I need to talk to you about tomorrow."

Violet Hawkins was my boss, and she was my friend as well, and for one moment I was worried, because it sounded like she was upset, but then I realized that she was just distracted. She sounded stressed, like she was being pulled in five different directions, and I wondered what could have happened, or, what was happening tomorrow, that would have her in a tizzy.

"What's wrong, Vi?" I asked worriedly. "Do you need me to come over?"

"Oh, no, there's nothing wrong," she said, rushing to assure me that all was well before I could talk myself into acting like a worrywart. "It's just that I have an appointment at eleven for an ultrasound and I was wondering if you'd be up to having Rose stay with you at the shop for a couple hours so that Jack can go with me to Dr. Adams' office."

Whew, what a relief. Violet was five months pregnant with her and Jack's fourth baby, and I knew that this was the big sonogram that they'd been waiting for, the one that would tell them if this baby was the boy that they were hoping for. The twins, Lily and Owen, were seven, and Rosie was three, and they were all anxious for the arrival of their baby brother or sister, though Owen was inclined to hope for a brother, and his parents did as well, so their little boy wouldn't feel like he was terribly outnumbered.

"That won't be a problem at all," I assured her. I had taken care of all of the kids at one point or another, and they never gave me any trouble. "I might even see if Ifan will come along with me, so that I will have help when customers come into the shop, if that's alright with you."

Violet kept a very relaxed vibe running in her shop, and family was always of the utmost importance, so I knew that she wouldn't have any objections to me bringing Ifan along, but I felt that I should ask first, instead of making assumptions. I owed her so much, for giving me a chance when it was painfully obvious that arranging flowers wasn't my forte, and I never wanted to take advantage of her kindness.

"That would be perfect," she said happily, showing me that I'd, once more, been correct in my assumptions. "Jack and I can pick up some food after my appointment, and then we can all sit down and have lunch together…won't that be fun?"

It would be a lot of fun, I would have a good time, there was no doubt about that in my mind…the only challenge would be convincing Ifan that _he_ would enjoy it.

* * *

Maelie had insisted on two stories, and her father, bless him, couldn't resist the urge to please her, but she'd fallen asleep before he got to the third page of the second book, just as I'd known she would, and we'd taken turns, kissing her forehead and tucking her into her bed, and then we'd retired to our own bedroom, and now I was doing my best to concentrate, to keep my mind on the topic of tomorrow, and babysitting and lunch, but I was having a hard time, keeping my attention where it needed to be, because he was kissing me, and undressing me, and his hands, and what he did with them, tended to make me forget about everything else.

I ought to have been exhausted from our earlier loving and eager for a good night's sleep, and I was, to some degree, but not enough that I would deny him, or myself, a night full of making love as well, if that was what he wanted, because it was a prospect that was, quite honestly, very alluring to me. I often wondered if my wanting him and needing him so fervently would ever lessen, while at the same time I prayed that it never would. Why shouldn't I be consumed by my love for him? Why shouldn't I ache for him, burn for him, long for him, at all hours of the day? Granted, it was a time-consuming endeavor, but I wouldn't trade places with anyone, or ever willingly give up the bond that I had with him. I had experienced the hell of an existence without him, and I would never go through that again, not if I had anything to say about it, that is.

"Mmm…Ifan," I sighed, leaning back my head, so that he could nibble his way down my throat. His beard tickled my skin, deliciously so, and my sigh turned to a gasp as he moved lower, to my collarbone, which he nipped with his teeth, then licked, before moving further, to my breasts, and that gasp turned to a whimper, and then an appreciative cry of his name as his lips, his beautiful, tantalizing lips, closed around my nipple.

My mind was swiftly turning to mush, so much so that I almost forgot that I needed to talk to him about tomorrow, and I struggled to string together the words that I needed to communicate to him what I'd planned for us. I had almost gathered together the ones that I needed, but then he bit me, very gently, and ran the tip of his tongue around my flesh, again and again, before he suckled me, and everything scattered, save for the words needed to vocalize my feelings where his actions were concerned, and I was forced to start all over again.

"Oh, God, Ifan, hmm, I need to, umm, I need to talk to you, yes, hmm, about something."

Thank God, I'd managed to utter a complete sentence, and it was one that made sense as well, save for all of the moaning and groaning, that is. All in all, I thought that I'd done very well, considering that he'd slipped his hand between my legs and found my clitoris eagerly awaiting his attention. It was a wonder that I'd managed to communicate anything to him that didn't have to do with him taking me in a manly fashion, but it seemed that I may as well have saved my energy, given all of the attention that he paid to what I'd said.

He carried me over to the bed and practically threw me down on it, and I bounced a couple of times before I came to rest on the mattress. He knelt at the foot of the bed and stared at me, then ran his palms up my legs, to my thighs, which he gently spread and then he lowered his body, so that he was lying between my legs, and I knew that my time for any sort of rational thinking was swiftly coming to an end.

"I need to talk to you!" I said, biting on my bottom lip and choking back a whimper born of pure need when I felt his thumb, big and strong and calloused, as it parted me, and then the rush of his breath, warm on my skin. "I need to do it now, while I'm able, before you make me forget myself."

My words died on a sob when I felt the first gentle caress of his tongue, and I delved my hands in his hair, twining my fingertips in the silken strands, and struggled to remember what I'd been talking about, but all that I could think about, all that I cared about, was the slow and steady rhythm of his tongue, and how it was wonderfully bringing me to life.

"Do not think of anything other than this moment, my love," he whispered, and then kissed me, a soft touch, to begin with, then a plunge of his tongue, to embrace me in the most intimate way possible. "There will be plenty of time for talking once we are ready to rest, but for now, the only thing that I desire is to make you forget yourself. Is that a notion that is satisfactory to you, my dear?"


	2. Acquaintances, both Old and New

Chapter Two

Acquaintances, both Old and New

Malayna's POV

"Hmm…I was wondering if you would like to tell me how you got your scar."

My hand, which held a plastic fork, laden with Beef Lo Mein, stalled in its trek to my mouth, as I winced, and waited for Ifan to respond to Jack's thoroughly inappropriate request. The day had been going so well, with Ifan and I taking turns watching over Rosie, so smoothly, with a slow and steady stream of customers, as opposed to being slammed all at once, and it had held the promise that it would stay on the same track while we visited over a smorgasbord of takeout from The Lotus Blossom, but then Jack had to go and open his mouth and ruin everything.

I was normally very fond of Jack and I usually found his quirkiness endearing, but that didn't mean that I was content to sit back and have no problem whatsoever with him putting Ifan on the spot and making him feel awkward. Of course, I knew that Jack didn't really mean any harm, his tendencies toward asking questions that most people avoided was simply part of his charm, but Ifan was a private person, and he wasn't going to react well to the questioning that Jack had in mind…and I wasn't the only one who knew that either, if the look on Violet's face was any indication.

Vi was doing her best to catch Jack's eye, while she shook her head as forcefully, while at the same time, as surreptitiously, as possible, but he was too caught up in watching Ifan intently and poking through his plateful of General Tso's Chicken with his chopsticks, plucking up one red chili after another and popping them into his mouth. I was watching Ifan as well, to check for any warning signs that said that hell was about to break loose, but his demeanor was that of someone who was calm and collected…that is, it was, if you didn't bother to look into his eyes.

"Which scar are you referring to, for there are many, not just one," he said quietly, methodically, and almost elegantly, working his way through his plate of Mongolian Beef with his chopsticks. "Although, I cannot imagine why you would presume that you had the right to ask me about something so personal, something that suggests the intimacy of a long friendship between the two of us, when I only made your acquaintance today, Mr. Hawkins."

Oh, no. I recognized that tone, even though it was one that I hadn't heard very often, because I could see it reflected in his gaze as he looked up from his meal, and across the table at Jack. That was the expression that meant that he was starting to get angry, he wasn't there just yet, but you were swiftly pushing him toward that point, and I turned my attention to Violet, in the hope that she might put a little more effort into quieting her husband, but he continued on like a man who didn't have a care in the world, or even a hint of survival instinct, before she could say a word.

"Well, Bane…do you mind if I call you Bane? Hmm…well, _Bane_, you see, it's like this. I have found, in the past, that telling people all about my scars is a wonderful way for me to break the ice, hmm, to develop a sense of trust, you might say. That being said, I remembered that you are in possession of a substantial scar, one that, hmm, rumor has it, travels the length of your spine, and that is something that makes my own scars kind of, hmm, well, _puny_ in comparison, and I thought that it might be fun if you were to, hmm, enlighten us with the tale of how you came by that particular disfigurement."

There was definitely tension in the air by that point, and I glanced over at Rose, to see if she'd picked up on the emotion, and whether or not it was upsetting her, but she was completely absorbed in her egg rolls, and seemed to have forgotten that there was anyone else sitting at the table with her. She was a quiet child by nature, but she'd been even more so since her parents had come back from the doctor with the news that the baby in Mommy's tummy was a boy. If I had to guess, I'd say that she'd been hoping for a sister, and the fact that she wasn't getting one bothered her enough to ensure that she didn't notice anything, or anyone else.

"I do not answer to that name any longer," Ifan said, spearing a piece of beef with the end of one chopstick and shoving it almost violently into his mouth. His tone was one that was soft in nature, so much so that I could barely hear him, so it might seem to Jack and Violet that he wasn't really very angry, but I knew him well enough to know that he was well on his way to being furious. "And I am not one who feels the need to make polite chitchat with everyone that I meet, for the sake of breaking through the silence in a room, though, when I do speak, I find that I am quite capable of carrying on an entire conversation without asking those around me if they would be interested in knowing about the origins of my scars."

Now it was Violet's turn to glance at her husband with a look of alarm on her face that undoubtedly mirrored the one that I was wearing. I'd never seen Jack angry in all of the time that I'd known him, but I'd also never seen him in a situation where that particular emotion was warranted. That being said, I couldn't tell, by looking at him, whether he was getting mad or not, but he had to have been, because why else would Vi be looking at him the way that she was, as if she expected him to explode at any moment, if he wasn't seconds away from losing his temper?

"Can I touch your face hair?"

I'd been too busy watching Violet and Jack, and trying to decide whether or not violence was imminent to pay any attention to Rose, but her whispered words to Ifan pulled my attention away from her parents. She was sitting on her knees in the chair beside my lover, staring at his beard with a shy smile on her face, and blushing when he turned in his seat to look at her. I knew that she liked him, I'd found her watching him from time to time all day, but this was the first time that she'd spoken to him.

"Santa Claus has face hair too, but his is long and bushy and white," she continued, reaching out with one small hand, raising it slowly, as if she meant to touch his beard whether he gave her his permission to do so or not, but she stopped at the last moment, and grabbed hold of her curious hand with the one that was, apparently, more cautious in nature. "But I like yours better. It's a lot prettier than his…but don't tell him that I said that, okay?"

It was hard to believe that there had been so much tension in the room just moments before, because there wasn't a trace of that uneasiness left. Jack and Violet were watching their daughter with smiles on their faces, and I was switching my attention from her to Ifan, then back again. I couldn't say for certain what his answer to her would be, but I could see that the corner of his mouth was twitching in a way that said that he was on the verge of smiling at her, and that was a good sign, for all of us.

"You may touch my beard, Miss Rose," he said, bending forward from his chair, to give her easy access to his face. "And thank you for the compliments, though I must say that I do not believe my whiskers could even come close to comparing with those of St. Nick."

I knew that his beard was surprisingly soft; I knew that it felt warm and plush against my bare skin. I liked to run my fingertips over it, and to smooth it back away from his lips, so that I could kiss him, and not the hair that covered his face, and it made me smile to see Rose doing the same thing, though she didn't press her mouth to his after she'd uncovered it, as I would have. She stroked him for several moments, and then she sat back in her chair, smiling, first at him, then at the rest of us, saving her father for last, offering him a brighter beam than the one that she'd given to everyone else.

"It's soft, Daddy," she said, turning back to Ifan, just for a moment, to look at him, only to look away in a hurry when he smiled at her. "It's not as soft as your scars, more like my blankey. You and Mr. Ifan should be friends, Daddy, 'cause you're both soft, isn't that right, Miss Malayna?"

Hmm…was there any greater wisdom to be found than that which came from the mouths of babes?

Bane's POV

"Do I have beautiful eyes, Daddy?"

I was unaccustomed to being singled out for a positive reason, yet this was the second time today that my favor had been sought. Rose Hawkins was a lovely little girl, and I had enjoyed her company, and the fact that she was nothing like her father, and I had a good idea that I had liked her as much as I had because she reminded me of my little Poppet. That being said, I did not enjoy her attention as much as I did Maelie's, and it pleased me that my daughter was seeking my opinion, over that of all of the others in the room…mainly, over those of James, John and Barbara, that is.

I cast a furtive glance around the room and discovered that we, the Poppet and I, were the center of attention, though everyone, save for my beloved, was attempting to pretend that they were paying us no mind at all. James was seemingly immersed in his newspaper, and John and Barbara gave every pretense that they were completely absorbed by their game of gin rummy, but Malayna was watching us with a small, glowing smile curving her lips, her crocheting forgotten for the moment.

"Of course you do, my sweet," I said, bending to brush my lips across her forehead. "How could they not be beautiful, when they look just like your Momma's, hmm?"

My answer had pleased her, and it had made Malayna happy as well, and I found, not for the first time, that I enjoyed the feeling of finding myself immersed in the love of my two girls. Had I been asked, years ago, where I expected to find myself at this age, I would have said that I never imagined that I would be this age, and, I did not want to imagine myself as such, but now I knew that I was right where I wanted to be, and the idea of my former intentions were not simply unthinkable to me any longer, they were infuriating as well, to know that I had wasted my time and spent so much of my blood, my sweat, my tears and my soul on the endeavors of those who only sought to use me.

"There was a man at school today, and he looked at our eyes, and told us what he saw, and he told me that my eyes were beautiful. That was nice of him, wasn't it, Daddy?"

Her class had been studying the human body this week, they had studied their teeth the day before, and tomorrow's assignment was their ears. We already knew that her teeth were healthy, and her hearing was strong, but it was nice to see her enthusiasm, and we always pretended that she was telling us something that we did not know. It seemed to me that it would have been more beneficial to her education, to give her an explanation of how her eyes worked, rather than paying her a compliment, but, on the other hand, he had made her smile, so how could I possibly find fault with him?

"Yes, that was very nice of him, Maelie," I assured her, pulling her into my arms, so that I could kiss her on the crown of her head. "Now then, it is time for your bath. Go upstairs and get your nightgown and I will be up to run the water for you in just a moment."

She started to turn, to leave, so that she might do as I had told her to, but then she stopped, and hesitated for just a moment, turning back to look at me. "Could I tell you and Momma about my eyes after my bath, Daddy, pretty please?"

I looked across the room at my beloved, and she smiled and nodded at me. "Of course you may, my sweet," I told her, and then shocked everyone, especially myself, with what I said next. "As a matter of fact, I think that you ought to come downstairs and tell everyone, if you would like to, that is."

There was an old saying that spoke of a room being so devoid of sound that the noise of a pin dropping to the ground could be heard, and that was a perfect descriptive for the atmosphere in the living room after I spoke. Thankfully, Maelie did not seem to notice the change, she simply smiled happily and agreed, turning, once more, to leave, but only after she had planted a kiss on the cheek of every person in the room.

I sat in my chair and counted to one hundred after she had left, trying my best to avoid meeting the eyes of the others, and then, when I could not stand the shocked silence any longer, I rose to my feet and started to leave, only to be stopped by Malayna, who reached out to take hold of my hand. I looked down at her, and struggled to swallow when I saw the look that was in her eyes, and the smile that was on her face. Each of these, the look and the smile, were irresistible on their own, but when combined, as they were at that moment, they made for a combination that made it impossible for me to deny her anything that she asked me to do.

"That was very sweet of you, Ifan," she said softly, running her thumb in a gentle and comforting, yet stirring, caress against my palm. "Thank you, my love, for all of us."

I could see heads bobbing in agreement from the corner of my eye, but I did not want to turn around to acknowledge them. Thankfully, Maelie chose that moment to call for me, so I was not put into a position that would undoubtedly prove to be awkward for everyone in the room, save, perhaps, for Malayna. I bent and kissed her as quickly as I could, then hurried out of the room, nearly running as I made my way to the stairs.

"Daddy?" Maelie called again, much louder than the last time she'd summoned me.

My rushed movements had initially been born from an impulse to flee, but when I heard the tenor of Maelie's voice, the one that said that she was bewildered, but also a little frightened, it changed the reason for my decision to hurry. I could not understand what could have confused my daughter, and I did not even want to ponder what it was that might have scared her, but I did know, instinctively, that I needed to move quickly.

"Daddy, please!" she cried, all traces of confusion gone, replaced solely with fear, a sound that made my heart leap into my throat and my breathing freeze for just a moment.

I took the steps by twos and ran to her room, but she was not there. She was not in the bathroom either, or in our bedroom, and I desperately searched the rooms of the others, but she was nowhere to be found. That left me with one choice, but she had no reason to go in there, did she? Not after I had told her that it was forbidden, not after I had stressed that to her, time after time, surely she would not have defied me, would she?

"Daddy, where are you!?"

I stopped in my tracks, and looked back over my shoulder, at the door that led into the room that we used for storage, which was where Malayna and I had stowed the boxes that contained pieces of our past which we had decided to hide from our daughter until she was older. She was in that room, she had gone inside, despite our warning that she stay out, and I felt a momentary flash of anger, because she had deliberately disobeyed me, one which was immediately overshadowed by the fear, the terror, really, of what she might have unearthed…of what she might know about me.

I had never allowed her to see me in my mask, not even in my dreams, and it brought a bone deep dread to life within me, a visceral horror that paralyzed me, for just a moment, to think that she might have found that remnant of me. She also might have found the album that Malayna had kept, the one that showed the memories connected with the villain called Bane, and then she would know who I had been…and then she would not love me any longer, would she?

It was a thought that caused a lump to rise in my throat and brought tears to my eyes, but I did not have the luxury of time to indulge in any sort of self-pity, not now, when my daughter needed me so much. I moved back one step, followed by another, then another and took a deep breath as I laid my hand on the doorknob, holding it inside for a moment, then releasing it, as I turned the knob and entered the room, preparing myself for the worst…or so I had thought.

She was standing in the center of the room, and everything looked exactly as it had the last time that I had seen it. None of the boxes were opened, none of the ugly secrets were strewn about on the floor, which had to mean that she had not discovered the truth about my past, which was such an enormous relief to me that I almost sank down to my knees, but I did not give in to the urge to do so. I was too busy trying to understand what it was that had scared her, if it was not the knowledge of the man who her father had been that had done so.

"Maelie?" I called softly. "What is it, Poppet? What has frightened you, my sweet?"

I suppose that I ought to have chastised her for defying me, but she was still frightened, I could see her fear reflected in her body language, and the thought that I would do anything that would upset her even more was repugnant to me. I took one step toward her, my hand outstretched, and then another, but came to an abrupt stop when she spoke to me, softly, in a tone that was still filled with fright.

"Daddy?" she called tremulously, turning to look at me, right at my face, then past me, all around the room, sightlessly searching for me, as she turned in a circle, her bottom lip trembling as tears gathered in her eyes. "Where are you?"

A/N: For any readers who are not familiar with Jack & Violet Hawkins, let me clear things up for you. I wrote a Joker story a couple of years ago, titled _Shy Violet_, and Jack was my rendition of the Joker, and Violet was my OC, who played the role of Jack's love interest in that fic. I hope this clears things up, and, if you're interested, please feel free to give the Joker story a read.


	3. The Sins of the Father

Chapter Three

The Sins of the Father

Bane's POV

_The payment due was an eye for an eye. Both of hers were taken, because both of his were led astray._

_The Shroud_

I needed to go into Maelie's room, she needed to know that I was there when she woke up, but my anger was too great, and I was not willing to take a chance on whether or not I might say or do anything that would frighten her, should she awaken and find me in the midst of an outpouring of the rage that was swiftly making its way through me. I had been given one purpose in this new life, to protect my family, to watch over my girls, and I had failed, miserably so, and now Maelie was paying the price for my shortcomings.

_The Shroud_, how very droll. Or so it might have been, had the note bearing the name not been placed in my daughter's backpack. It was bad enough, to know that this sick bastard had purposefully sought out my child, to make her the instrument to obtain revenge against me, but to rummage through her possessions as well, to know that he had run his hands over her belongings, so that he could plant the missive that bore his intent, well, that was infuriating, to say the very least.

I curled my hands into fists and leaned forward in my chair, slowly rocking back and forth, uncaring of what those around me might have been thinking. It was a poor excuse for action, when what I wanted was to hunt down the one who was responsible, but I could not do that. I had put that part of myself away, I had set all of those memories in a box, and locked it in a room, never to be opened again, but how strong was a box, in moments such as these?

The hospital was much quieter than I had expected it to be. In my memories it was bustling with activity, and always filled with noise from every direction, save for the times when Malayna would appear, like a guardian angel, and pull the shades to darken the room, and she would close the door, and take care to be quiet, all out of respect for me. Why could I not go back to that feeling that all was well, even if only for a moment? Why did I have to stay here, where my child was in danger, where I had failed, once more, to do what I was supposed to do…where it hurt, so damned much, to take in each and every breath that filled my lungs.

The door to Maelie's room opened, and I knew that it was my beloved who had stepped out into the hallway. I smelled her perfume, and heard the tiny sniffles that she had undoubtedly held at bay until that moment, so that our daughter would not hear the sounds of her mother's pain. She chose, instead, to share her anguish with me, so that we might merge our sorrow together, into one, and that was what I wanted, what I _needed_, even though, mere moments before, I had wanted desperately to be left alone.

I lowered my hands to my legs, and forced my fists to relax, so that I might rest my palms upon my knees, but I could not cease my body from rocking back and forth, no matter how hard I tried. There was a part of me which told me that I ought to remain strong, to hold these damning and weakening emotions at bay, because they would prove to be a hindrance upon me in the journey that laid ahead of me, but there was another part, a dominant one, which begged me to reach out to the one that I loved, to hold her close and offer her the comfort of my arms, and to take solace from her as well, and in the end, that was the voice that made the most sense to me.

"Sweetheart," she whispered, and that was all that it took, that one word, murmured softly from across the hall, in a voice that was as familiar as my own and choked with all of the worries that had fallen upon us this night, that was all that I needed, to cave enough to reach blindly for her, praying that she would catch me before I fell.

And she did, not that I had any reason to doubt that she would. She threw her arms around me and held me up, hugging me close and running her hands up and down my back, then to my head, to entwine her fingers in my hair, then back down, so that she could repeat the pattern again and again. She murmured to me, and made the sort of noises that one injured animal might make to another, to let it know that it was not alone in its misery. I do not know why these things comforted me so much, but they did, and I was content to allow her to hold me for as long as she wanted.

"It's alright, my love," she assured me, choking for breath, just a bit, when I held her tighter than I ought to have. "The doctor will be here soon to look at her and then we will have some answers….."

I lifted her off of her feet with the fierceness of my embrace and choked back something that might have been a sob, had I allowed such a thing, when she responded by twining her legs around my waist. Thankfully, we were alone in the hallway, so there was no one around who might insinuate that we were engaged in anything that was even remotely improper, because I knew that I did not have the ability to be polite to anyone outside our immediate circle, not tonight, not after everything that had happened.

"Is she awake?" I whispered, burying my face in my hair and breathing deeply, finding succor in the familiar scent that greeted me. "She needs to sleep as much as she can, my dear, so that she might reserve her strength."

I hoped that Maelie might find some peace while she slumbered, that she would see things as she always had, even if only for a little while, though I dreaded the arrival of the moment when she would open her eyes and remember everything that had happened. I knew that I could live to be one hundred, I could grow wrinkled and feeble and stunted, but I would never forget the look that had been on my child's face while her sightless eyes struggled to find me. I would never be able to force out the memory of her voice, that tremor of fear and confusion, and the plea that I help her…just as I would never forget that I had not been able to do what she had asked of me.

"She is very strong, Ifan," Malayna reminded me, lifting my head, so that she could press a kiss to my brow. "She is sleeping, for now, but we will probably have to wake her when the doctor arrives."

It was a small thing, that soft touch of her lips, just as her whispered endearment had been, but it held the power to make my knees buckle none the less. There were times when I wondered if it was normal, for a man to be so deeply affected by his love for a woman, there were moments when her power over me, and my soul deep attachment to her frightened me, but then I remembered that our bond was the most natural thing in the world, and I never had to fear losing her, because she was just as invested in me as I was in her, and that was never going to change.

"Do you think that she will be angry with me when she awakens?" I asked, immediately regretting the words that made me sound weak, even though I knew that my beloved would never think that way of me.

"Why on earth would she be angry with you?" she asked, leaning back in my embrace, then stubbornly holding herself at arm's length when I strove to bring her close to me once more. "You're her father, Ifan, and she loves you very much. There is no reason for her to blame you for what happened, sweetheart, and….."

"I failed her," I whispered, looking away from her, or, rather, trying to, but she put her hand on the side of my face and forced me to return my gaze to hers. "My entire life has been nothing but a series of botches, one right after the other, and egregious mistakes, and now I have one more to add to the list, the one thing that I have done that will undoubtedly damn me, if nothing else has….."

Her eyes took on that glint of warning, the one that said that she was close to the point where she would lose her temper. It was a flash of heat that I was fairly familiar with, much more than I would prefer to be, as a matter of fact. I wondered how it had come to be that I, a man who had led armies and made the world tremble with fear, could ever come to a point where the scowl of one tiny woman could unman me so completely, and turn the tables on me, so that _I_ was the one who was shuddering with trepidation, and, in most cases, with another sensation that I will refrain from mentioning here, but which was, I would imagine, a tad bit odd, to say the very least.

"You did _not_ fail her," she said, well, I suppose I ought to be truthful and say that she hissed the words at me instead. "And as for all of those _botches _and _egregious mistakes_, would you care to clarify something for me, hmm, if you please? Where do Maelie and I fit in on that list, Ifan? How do we rate, on a scale from one to ten, best to worst, amongst the things that you have done wrong?"

Her voice was trembling and she was on the verge of crying, and it tore at my heart, that poor, ragged beast, the one that was already hurting so much, to know that I had caused her to endure more pain, when what she needed was a little comfort from the one who was supposed to be her shelter, the one who guarded her through each and every tempest. I was tempted to berate myself for my thoroughly shabby performance, but I realized that doing so would be another example of me throwing myself a little pity party, and concentrated my attention on her instead.

"Ah, love, please don't cry," I pleaded, lowering her to the floor, to stand, leaning against me, even though she was angry. I wiped the tears away from beneath her eyes and bent to kiss the crown of her head, hoping against hope that she would give in and slip her arms around my waist, and that was exactly what she did. "Don't you know that you and Maelie are on another list, my sweet? It is a very short catalogue, one that chronicles the things that I _have_ done right in my lifetime, and you and the Poppet are at the very top. I'm sorry that I upset you, Malayna; I have never been one who had the ability to cope with my emotions like I was supposed to. It is not a good excuse, to be sure, but it is the only one that I have, and I hope that you can forgive me….."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me, silencing me in an instant, and I needed no further encouragement to sweep her into my arms and hold her as tightly as I could and give myself over to her embrace. I returned the kiss with everything that I had, I poured all of my love, and my anger, and my devotion and my sorrow into it, and took from her what I could, to relieve her and fulfill her, the same as she did for me, and we might have stayed that way for hours, had the sound of one discreet cough, followed by another, not drawn us back to reality.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Rhys, I am Dr. Reinhardt, and I am the one who will be taking care of Maelie."

There was something in her eyes that seemed so familiar to me, but I could not place who she was, and, after that first fleeting moment, she was a stranger to me once more. Her tone was not quite an genial as I would have liked it to be, given that my Poppet was to be in her hands, but then I thought of the hour, and the circumstances, and realized that it would be rare, and a little odd as well, if she was friendly and smiling at one in the morning, knowing that the family of a child who had suddenly been stricken blind were waiting for her to provide them with answers.

I tried to return her greeting, but the words stuck in my throat. I attempted to take the hand that she offered, to shake it, as she expected me to, but I did not want to touch anyone, save for my girls, I was too angry to run the risk of hurting anyone, so I kept my hand to myself. I knew that the situation was an awkward one, I could feel the tension that was in the air, but thankfully Malayna saved me, just as she had so many times before.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Reinhardt," she said, reaching to take hold of the hand that the doctor had offered me. "Truth be told, I could have gone the rest of my life not knowing you, and been much happier, but it is a load off of my mind, to know that Maelie is being helped."

She walked toward the door of the room as she spoke, and looked at me as she opened it. She held out her hand to me and smiled, the sort of beam that was tremulous, yet hopeful, one that was crestfallen, but still managed to retain a hint of hope, and it heartened me to step forward and place my hand in hers, trusting that all would be well, for no other reason than the fact that she had not lost her faith, so what reason did I have to lose mine?

Malayna's POV

I had hoped that the doctor might have come to introduce herself because she had something new to tell us, but she was still waiting on the results of the tests that had been performed on Maelie when we'd brought her in earlier in the evening. The events of the night were wearing on me, it felt as though something had been unleashed within me, a beast, of sorts, that clawed at my nerves and made me want to pace the floor, wringing my hands and crying helplessly, but I couldn't do that. I had to be strong now; I had to be a rock for my daughter, a calming presence, to assure her that all was well. I had to hold up as best as I could, because my strength was needed, and it wasn't just Maelie who was depending on me either, but Ifan as well.

I knew that I would never be able to forget the look that was on his face when I found him, holding our baby tightly in his arms while she cried. I'd been downstairs with the others, waiting for the call that told me that it was story time, but he'd shouted for me too soon, in a tone that was unlike any I'd ever heard him use before. I still don't know how I'd managed to beat the others upstairs, given that they were closer than I had been, but I was the one who'd found them, and that image was burned into my memory, I saw it each and every time that I closed my eyes, and I imagined that it would take me a long while before I was able to keep it at bay.

Maelie had continued to sleep while Dr. Reinhardt spoke to us, and for several minutes afterward, but then she began to stir. I sat forward in the chair that I had placed beside her bed, while Ifan did the same on the other side, and this time he was the one who offered his hand first, reaching across the bed and sliding his fingers between mine, squeezing gently, to assure me that he was there for me. I hadn't realized how much I needed that show of support until I felt it, and it was all that I could do, to stifle my answering sob and hold my tears at bay, but I managed, not only for Maelie's sake, but for his as well.

"D-daddy?" she called softly, in a tone that was still filled with sleep. "M-mama?"

I saw a tremor of pain take hold of Ifan's shoulders and his bottom lip was trembling, but I didn't give him any indication that I'd noticed. His pain was a presence that was almost physical in nature, and I knew that he was having a hard time resisting the urge to let it consume him completely, so I didn't want to do anything that might shake that tenuous grasp any further.

"I'm right here, Poppet," he said softly, clearing his throat when the words tried to stick, moving forward in his chair, so that he could take her hand in his. "And Mama is here as well…and Grandpa Jimmy, and Uncle John and Auntie Babs."

I took hold of her hand from my side of the bed, squeezing it gently while I smiled down at her, even though she couldn't see me. Poor bear, he was struggling so hard to be strong, and even though it was in his blood to act out when he was hurting, he still made an effort to try to get along with those that he knew were important to his daughter.

"Oh, Daddy, don't be sad," Maelie whispered, turning loose of Ifan's hand, so she could rest her palm against his cheek. "I wasn't scared because I couldn't see; I was scared because I couldn't find you. That was why I was crying, but I'm not crying anymore, and I don't want you to be so mean to yourself, okay, Daddy?"

His lip had already been trembling a little, but now it was wobbling uncontrollably. "I'm not sad, Maelie," he lied, even though the quavering tone of his voice clearly gave him away. "I am just w-worried, that is all…and I am mean to myself because I need to be, I deserve every last bit of….."

"No, you _don't_," she said firmly, turning her head, so that she was facing him, and he was doing the same to her. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Daddy, I know that I'm not supposed to do that, but you're being…what's that word, Mama, the one that means that he's not listening, even though he ought to?"

I bit back a snort of laughter, but there was nothing that I could do to keep the smile off of my face. "He's being stubborn," I said, smiling even brighter when he looked at me and raised one eyebrow. "Or, you could say that he's acting mulish or bullheaded, if you want to."

She considered her options for a moment, and then shook her head. "Huh-uh, stubborn is the one that I was looking for, thank you, Mama." She stroked her little hand against his face, and wiped away the hint of tears that had gathered around his eyes with the tip of her finger. "You shouldn't be that way, Daddy, you shouldn't be stubborn or sad or mean, because I had a dream, a good and happy dream, and that makes everything better, doesn't it?"

I knew that there wasn't anyone in the room who would agree that a dream had the ability to make anything better at this point, but I wasn't about to tell Maelie that. "What happened in your dream, baby?" I asked, leaning forward, to brush back her hair and place a kiss against her forehead.

"There was a new baby, Mama," she said, with a smile that was sunny and cheerful, so much so that it brightened the room.

"Did you see Auntie Vi and Uncle Jack's new baby?" I asked, reaching across the bed, to squeeze Ifan's hand.

"No, Mama, not that baby," she said, sliding her hand from her Daddy's cheek, to rest it between our palms. "The baby that I saw belongs to us."


	4. Healing Of the Heart

Chapter Four

Healing Of the Heart

Malayna's POV

I removed the processors from my implants and lay back on the bed, desperate for rest, and a little peace and quiet. Granted, my hearing was nothing like it had been when I was child, before the accident, but there were times, like this one, when it worked better than I wanted it to. Three days had passed since Maelie's sight had been stolen from her, three agonizing days with no answers, and the discovery of two new victims, and, understandably, the public panic was swiftly growing, in spite of the effort of the GCPD to keep things as low-profile as they possibly could.

The story was the same for all three of the afflicted children, the blame laid with the man who'd performed the eye exams at three different schools, the one that no one could find, and that no optometrist or ophthalmologist in town seemed to have any knowledge of. Maelie was back at home, now that the tests were done, at least, they were for the time being, and we'd pressed her for all of the details that she could remember, in the hope that there would be a clue that she might recall, one that would lead us to the one who was responsible for hurting her, but it seemed that she had already told us everything that she knew.

She ought to have been scared. I could remember how terrified I had been, after my hearing had been taken from me, and then, once the reality of my new life had sunk in, my fear had turned to rage. My Granny had come to take me home with her and I hadn't responded to her at all, that is, I hadn't done so in a positive manner. I'd stiffened my body when she hugged me, with my arms hanging limply at my sides, and once we'd reached her house I'd sat by the window in my room, staring outside, and had refused to move at all, save for the times when I'd had to answer the call of nature, for a full day.

I'd been forced to move, once the grumbling of my stomach convinced me that I couldn't ignore the smells that were floating up from the kitchen any longer, but I'd kept my rotten attitude in place for two weeks. I always wondered how Granny had managed to keep her temper in check, and where she'd found the strength to love me just as much as she always had, when I made it so hard on her, and then it dawned on me that she had done so because her love for me was unconditional, and I'd vowed, then and there, that I would never care for anyone unless I could do so wholeheartedly, and that was what I had done, though, I was certain, there were times when my heart wished that I wouldn't offer it up so freely.

Maelie hadn't shown any signs that she was frightened, and she certainly wasn't angry, even though she had every right to be. My daughter was happy instead, she wore a smile with every waking moment, one that faltered a bit at times, when she was enduring one test or another, or when she heard that there were two others who'd been afflicted with the same blindness that had befallen her. These were both occasions when her resolve had wobbled a bit, but she had recovered quickly, and each time she'd found something to concentrate her attention on, so that she could keep her spirits up, and that something was the dream that she'd had, the one that she insisted would come true…and she'd never been wrong before.

I ran my hands over my stomach and smiled, wondering if the tiny life was there already, unseen and unfelt, or if it was a reality that wouldn't come to be until after the other vision in Maelie's dream came about. She said that she saw me in a white gown, with flowers in my hair, walking arm in arm with Jimmy, and she knew that it was springtime, or early summertime, because we were in the park and everything was green, but she hadn't seen whether my tummy was rounded with her little brother or sister, because I'd been facing away from her.

It made me happy, overjoyed, to tell the truth, to know that we were going to have another child. I was equally thrilled by the knowledge that Ifan and I were going to get married, but I couldn't help but feel like Maelie's dream was what would bring that happiness about, when what I wanted was for Ifan to ask me to be his wife because that was what was in his heart. I suppose that I was a little old-fashioned, I might have even been pathetically out-of-date, but I'd always wanted a romantic proposal, one of those that caught me off-guard and made me cry and laugh and dance around like a fool…..

I saw the bedroom door slowly opening from the corner of my eye, and jumped just a little, stifling a cry of surprise. I hadn't been able to hear the doorknob turning, because I'd taken off my "ears" in the hope that I would get some rest, and for one heart pounding moment I worried that the one who'd hurt Maelie had come for me as well, but then I saw that it was Ifan who was walking into the room, and not the nameless, faceless monster who'd harmed our child, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

He looked at me for a moment, and I could see the same haunted anguish that had been in his eyes since that night, a seemingly unrelenting pain that was always underscored by a hint of anger that would have frightened me, if it had been aimed in my direction. Every day it simmered and immersed itself within him, and that was understandable, given what had been done to our family, but what I couldn't fathom was why he insisted on concentrating any of that rage at himself, as if he was to blame for what had happened to Maelie. I didn't care what that note in her backpack had said. This wasn't his fault. I knew that, and Maelie knew it as well, so why was he so determined to beat himself up?

I was lying in the middle of the bed, and he crossed the room and made his way to the side where I usually slept. He lay down behind me, and hesitated for just a moment, before he drew me into his arms. I went willingly and eagerly into his embrace, taking solace in his warmth, his strength, and his familiar and masculine smell. I ran my hand up and down his back, lightly tracing my fingertips over his spine, instinctively outlining the scar that ran the length of his backbone, and sighed again, a sound born of happiness, when I felt him shudder, right before he tightened his hold on me.

He held me close for a moment, and then he drew back and looked at me. I could see the struggle within him, the one that would allow for only a single emotion to dominate him. The sadness in his eyes retreated, then surged, only to be conquered an instant later by a furious fire that raged out of control, but it burned itself out of existence rather quickly, after I raised my head and pressed my lips, very gently, to his, and I was pleased, beyond words, to see that the warmth and tenderness of love had proved triumphant in the end.

He was shaking in my arms, and I kissed him again and again, whispering how much I loved him, and then I took his hand and placed it on my tummy, to remind him of Maelie's dream. There was a large part of me that hoped that the baby was there already, even with all of the chaos that had enveloped our family, because that was what had carried me through the last tragedy in my life, when I thought that I had lost him forever. I'd been given a reason to pull myself out of the soul crushing depression that had threatened to end me right along with the man that I loved, and little by little, day-by-day, I'd found an inner peace, one that had grown with my baby. The only thing that had held me back and refused to subside was the regret that Ifan wasn't there to share in the experience with me, but that wasn't the case this time, was it?

He curled his hand against me, protectively, even though we didn't know whether there was a baby or not, and then he moved down on the bed and pressed his lips to my stomach. It was a sweet action that brought tears to my eyes, but I held them at bay, and ran my fingers through his hair. I knew that he liked for me to do that, it was something that comforted him, and he rubbed his cheek against my stomach as I stroked him, savoring the touch, then he grew still and I thought that he might have gone to sleep, but then he slipped his hand beneath my tank top and slid it up, then off of me, leaving me bare from the waist up.

He moved up on the bed and took my face in his hands. "Please," he shaped, and then he kissed me, very softly, but with a hint of desire that made me shiver in response. "I need you, my love, so very much…may I have you, Malayna, please, will you let me in?"

Poor bear, he didn't have to ask me for my permission, but it pleased me that he'd done so. I wished that I'd had my processors in place, so that I could have heard his voice when he asked me, but I could imagine his voice, and I'd have to make do with that instead, because I wasn't about to slip them on and tell him to ask me again.

"Do you have any idea how fine you are to me, Ifan?" I asked, slowly pulling off his shirt, so that I could feel him pressed against me, skin to skin.

"You have told me from time to time," he answered, bending his head, to run his lips along my jaw. "But I never tire of hearing you say the words, my dear."

I placed my hand on his chest, resting it where I could feel the thumping of his heart, just as he liked me to. "Then you know how fiercely I love you, and you know that you own a big portion of my heart, that you're the other half of my soul, so that means that you are already in, and that's exactly where you belong."

Bane's POV

There had been times, in days past, when I had been humbled by love, or, rather, by what I believed was love. I had scraped and bowed, I had given freely, wholeheartedly, all that I had, with no thought of receiving the same in turn, though I would have been delighted to have been given just a hint of the same devotion. I had been a faithful servant, an obedient guard dog, and a gullible fool, one who had lived to serve one woman and her father's ideology, but I was none of those things any longer.

All of that had changed when Malayna had come into my life, and there were times, more often than not, when I wondered what I had done to deserve such a blessing. She had the power to bring me to my knees, with just a look, or the softest touch of her hand, but never because she meant to shame me. And now I truly knew what it meant to love someone unreservedly, with all of my heart and my soul, and to have that devotion and affection returned, so much so that I never had any reason to doubt its strength. I was a faithful lover, a doting father, and I lived to love and protect my family, but there were times, like the present, when I felt like I was lost, and the only thing that could bring me back where I belonged was my beloved.

She started kissing me, first my eyelids, then my cheeks, followed by my mouth, which trembled, even though I strove to keep it still. She ran her lips down my throat, and further still, until she reached my nipple, and the touch of her mouth as it gently kissed my flesh made me draw in a breath between teeth that were tightly clenched, and my fingers gripped, and twisted, the bedclothes when I felt the tip of her tongue, wonderfully soft and warm, as it teased and tasted me.

"Ah, Malayna, do you know what you do to me, my love?" I asked, even though I knew she could not hear me. The feelings were there, inside of me, which meant that the words were there as well, and as such, I had to set them free, even if I was the only one in the room who could hear them. "Do you have any notion at all of how good you make me feel?"

She must have felt my chest rumbling as I was speaking, because she raised her head and smiled at me…then promptly went back to the task of turning me inside out, setting me upside-down and bringing me to the realization that I had been mistaken when I said that she made me feel _good_, because that descriptive was a paltry one, when compared with the reaction that she inspired in me when she unfastened and removed my trousers, followed closely by my underpants and took me, literally, in hand.

I liked it when she took on the role of the aggressor, I enjoyed the look that came into her eyes when she was deliberately being naughty, but tonight I did not want her to play that part on her own. I wanted to make her gasp and whimper, not only with pleasure, but with surprise as well, and that was why I almost tore her shorts when I was taking them off of her, that was the reason that I ripped her panties when I removed them from her body, and she did not disappoint me.

She gasped in shock, and whimpered my name, and for one moment I feared that I might have scared her, until I saw the look that was in her eyes, one that was filled with an almost desperate sense of arousal, and I did not waste another moment worrying over my actions. I slid my hand between her thighs, and found that she was not simply warm, but fiery, and unmistakably roused, enough that the beads born from her awakening trickled onto my fingertip, and eased my trek to her clitoris.

I caressed her very gently, tiny circles, one stroke, and then I lingered, I hovered, for an instant, until she moaned my name, and then I would touch her again. She was so responsive to me, just as she had always been, and it was not long before she was moving against my hand, whimpering, and tossing her head back and forth on the pillows, and the way that she was gripping me, the way that she stroked me in response, encouraged me to give a voice to my own growing need.

I bent my head, to take one of her nipples into my mouth, and gave it the same attention that I had been lavishing upon her clitoris. I began each stroke with the flat of my tongue, bringing it around, to the peak of her flesh, which I teased with the tip of my tongue. It was a little difficult; to concentrate my attention on orchestrating the rhythm between the two, given that her hand was busily driving me to distraction, but I did an admirable job none the less, though the sound of her impassioned cry at the moment of her release very nearly sent me over the edge along with her.

I usually would have spent more time readying her, tantalizing her, even after I knew that she was eager to receive me, but I needed her too badly this time. My body was crying out for release, but there was also the drive that I be welcomed, and held, and soothed within the embrace of her arms and her legs and the sweet silken clasp that enfolded me in a cocoon of warmth, almost as if she had been made especially for me.

I rolled her over, onto her back, and slid my body between her legs. She opened to me, _for_ me, with no hesitation, just as she always did, and I grabbed her behind her knees, pulling her legs around, one by one, to twine them around my waist, and then I slipped inside of her, burying myself to the hilt, with a soft growl of relief. I worried, for just a moment, whether I had been too rough, that I might have hurt her, but those concerns fled me in the next instant, when I heard her answering whimper. It was a sound that conveyed pleasure, not pain, and it was all the encouragement that I needed, to slide my hands to her head, so that I could hold her face in my palms, and stare deep into her eyes, while my hips began the ebb and flow that plunged me into her softness, the deliciously intense rhythm that came as natural to me as taking my next breath.

"I love you," I whispered, careful to say the words slowly and clearly, so that she could read my lips, and groaned when I felt her tighten on me, hugging me close, in an embrace that I felt from the root to the tip of my aching flesh. "Dear God, Malayna, I love you so much."

I would have liked to have conveyed my feelings to her with words that would warm her heart, ones which would woo her and flatter her, but the words that came to my mind were those that were simple and honest, and, thankfully, they seemed to please her. I suppose that was all that really mattered anyway, was it not, to always be truthful? It did not matter if I conveyed my feelings in a way that was elaborate, or if I chose, instead, to simplify things, just so long as I was sincere with, and faithful to, her.

"I love you, too, Ifan," she said, in a breathless voice that took hold of me in a manner that made me hasten the cadence of my hips. "I will always love you, Bear, _only_ you, and no other."

I smiled, pleased, as I always was, to hear her say her pet name for me aloud, and then bent to kiss her. I had meant to touch her lips for just a moment, a brief caress, and then I would go back to gazing into her eyes, but that kiss deepened, and grew hungrier, and the first became a second, then a third, and finally I was taking long, deep draws from her, slipping my tongue in and out of her mouth, in a deliberate mimicry of the undulation of my flesh into hers, and it was not long before I sensed that my moment was near.

"Now, my love," I pleaded, slipping my hands beneath her body, to take her backside into my hands, so that I might stroke her in ways that would send her over the edge. "I cannot wait much longer, Malayna, and I do not want to go there without you….."

I was so close, there was no way that I could hold back, and I feared that I would leave her unfulfilled, but then I saw the way that she was biting her bottom lip, I noticed her eyes closing tight, then opening, and then she reached up, and sank her fingernails into my shoulders, and that was all that encouragement that I needed. I locked my eyes on hers, and moved faster and faster, moaning and growling and gasping her name, until I felt her squeezing tightly around me, a fierce catch and release, punctuated by her crying out my name, again and again. My triumphant shout joined the sounds of her passion, it mingled with them, and filled the room, then quieted, to the occasional groan, to mix with her choked and gradually subsiding sighs, and I held her close, resting my face in her neck, where I whispered her name, and all of the secrets of my soul.

* * *

She was blushing, a glowing, delicate pink that darkened to crimson when I met her eye and winked. She was worried that everyone downstairs had heard us making love, and she was embarrassed, because she had made so much noise, in addition to the cacophony created by the creaking of the bedsprings, the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the walls, and, she imagined, my own impassioned vocalizing. I do not know why it did not occur to her that they heard the same things each and every night, and sometimes during the day, but then it dawned on me that she was self-conscious because she had not been able to hear everything for herself, and, undoubtedly, her imagination was exaggerating what had actually occurred.

I sat up on the bed and grabbed her processors off of the bedside table. There was something that I needed to do, and I wanted to be sure that she understood me completely, I wanted her to be able to hear my voice, because I had something that was very important to discuss with her. She took them from my hand and slipped them on, and then she slugged me in the arm, as punishment for taking so much pleasure in her discomfort.

"It's _not_ funny, Ifan!" she hissed, trying desperately to sound annoyed, but the glow in her eyes and the sleepy contentment in her voice took the sting from her words. "I can only imagine what they're thinking right now, and what if Maelie heard us? She doesn't know about these things and she might be scared and….."

"Calm down, my dear," I said, moving off of the bed and bending down, to peer beneath it, searching for the box that I'd hidden in back. "You are going to hyperventilate if you continue in this fashion."

At any other time, she would have taken offense at my words, but she was too busy watching me to pay any attention to my sarcasm. "What are you doing down there?" she asked, moving to the edge of the bed. "Your pants aren't down there, I threw them across the room, remember?"

I chuckled and lowered myself down to my knees, painfully aware of how ridiculous I must have looked at that moment, kneeling beside the bed, completely naked, but I could not wait any longer. I had intended to take her and Maelie to the park, I meant to go to the spot where we had been reunited, and where I had met my child for the first time, but I was afraid that she would misinterpret my intentions if I waited any longer. My Poppet's dream had been very clear, and I needed Malayna to know that the desire had already been in my heart, that_ I_ had wanted it first, before I had learned what was fated for us.

"Do you think that we made that baby tonight, my love?" I asked softly, placing my hand on her stomach. "I missed so much with Maelie, I missed everything, and I never would have dreamed that I would be given another chance."

She smiled at me, and reached out to run her fingers through my hair, but I grabbed hold of her hand and held it with my own, then moved my hold to her left hand, and slid the circlet of white gold that I'd bought for her onto her fourth finger. The setting was an aquamarine, with a tiny diamond on each side, a lovely and delicate ring, for a beautiful and dainty woman.

"I bought this ring three months ago, and I meant to ask you to marry me on Christmas Day, in the park, with Maelie, but I decided that I needed to change my plans, so that you would know, without a doubt, that I was not prompted to propose because of the dream that our Poppet had."

I paused to take a breath and she looked at me and smiled. Her lip was wobbling, but she was happy, and I knew that I had made the right choice, both with the ring and my timing as well. "I never thought that I would be a husband, but I also never saw myself as a father, and that has turned out to be one of the best things that I have ever done. I do not deserve you, Malayna, but I promise that I will always strive to be the man who _is_ worthy of you. I will never hurt you, and I will never leave you, and…and, I love you. Will you marry me, my dear?"

She stared at me for a moment, and for a split-second I thought that she meant to refuse me, and my heart sank, but then she threw herself into my arms, knocking me off-balance, so that I landed, rather painfully, on my backside, with her sprawled on top of me. Her elbow had dug into my ribs when we were falling, and that spot was smarting, but she was kissing me, and laughing, then kissing me again, and that made me feel much better.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she screamed, admiring her ring, before she returned her attention to me, hugging me close and pressing her lips to my chest. I might have pointed out to her that the crash of my body upon the floor, followed by her exuberant acceptance of my proposal, had undoubtedly raised more eyebrows downstairs than the sounds of our lovemaking had, just so I could see her blush again, but I did not want to spoil the moment. I savored her touch and her happiness instead, and made plans to tell her later…right before we went downstairs, to tell everyone the good news. Surely there would be no harm in that, would there?


	5. The False Within

Chapter Five

The False Within

Bane's POV

It was difficult to wear my mask, but I was determined to keep the façade in place. I was needed, to act as a source of comfort to Malayna, a stalwart anchor in the midst of the tempest that threatened to sweep our family into the abyss that my former self had created, but there were times when I felt, when I _knew_ that my _former _self was, in fact, my _true_ self, and it scared me, to think of how my beloved might respond, if she was to discover the truth. Granted, she had fallen in love with the Bane in me, she had nursed him and cared for him, when no one else would, she had lain with him and defended him, she had mourned him when she thought that he was lost…but Ifan was the one that she wanted to marry.

The room that was filled with my past drew me, like a moth to a flame, and I opened the door as quietly as I could, an effort that was made for naught, because the hinges screeched and squealed, and I decided that I really needed to lubricate them if I was going to make my visits a regular habit. Of course, I had not visited this room in a week, not since _that_ night, and before that, I had only done so a couple of times, but that was bound to change, now that I had finally accepted that my doing so was inevitable.

There was a part of me that hoped that the box that held my mask would be difficult to open, but it was not, as a matter of fact, it happened so easily that it seemed to have been waiting for me, almost as if it had anticipated my arrival. I stared down at the menacing frame and ran my fingertip over the cool metal, remembering fragments of the past that I had been so sure that I left behind me, and then I lifted it from its confines and cradled it in my hands, breathing deeply, and roughly, as I recalled the pain that had been part of my life, that had _encompassed_ my life when the mask covered my face both night and day.

I remembered the flow of analgesic vapors that took the edge off of the agonies that I constantly endured in those days, the ones joined by new miseries after that cursed Catwoman had nearly taken my life, those that I had tamped down with pills, until my uncle had delivered me into the hands of the physician who had set my body back to right. The mask had dulled the sharpness of my pain, it had made it, tolerable, but now I didn't need that sort of relief. There were parts of my body which still ached, but nothing like what I had known before, and that was a blessing, but I could not help but wish that I needed the respite that the mask had given me, so that I might place it on my face with good reason, so as not to upset my girls.

People had feared me when I wore the mask, they had done everything that they could to stay out of my line of sight, and no one would have dared to entice my temper, but now I was a faceless, nameless ordinary man, and no one trembled when I spoke. Someone had chosen to punish me for my past, by the most painful means possible, and I was being made to atone for my sins, even though I had lain the mask and the persona aside…but had I truly let go of the man that I had been?

I heard footsteps outside, in the hallway, a familiar tread that hesitated, for a moment, and I smiled, in spite of the darkness of my mood, when I imagined the look that was on his face, and the frown that was undoubtedly curling his moustache at the corners. I could not understand why he was so concerned with my wellbeing, not after all I had been party to in the past, but for some reason he honestly seemed to care, and not just for me, but for my girls as well, and that endeared him to me somewhat, though I would slice my own throat with the bowl of a rusted spoon before I let _him_ know that.

The hinges creaked as he opened the door, a drawn-out groaning, because he did so slowly, and then he cautiously made his way into the room. The sight of me sitting on the floor, with my former face cradled almost lovingly in my hands, must have taken him by surprise, but he hid it well, his steps did not even falter, as he made his way across the room and dropped down to the floor, to sit beside me.

"Good evening, Commissioner," I said softly, turning the mask from side-to-side in my hands. "I would not have expected to see you out of bed at this hour of the night."

I watched him from the corner of my eye, and observed the faint hint of revulsion that momentarily took hold of his features when he looked at the remnant of the man who had held Gotham prisoner. How did he separate the one from the other, how could he welcome Ifan into his home, and accept him as part of his "family", when Bane had been so intent on tearing everything that he knew and loved asunder?

"Well, I was headed downstairs to filch a couple of those cookies that Malayna made when I saw the light, and, well, I _am_ a cop, and that makes me a curious sort. I thought that you might have something on your mind that's keeping you awake, something that you don't want to discuss with Malayna, and that's understandable, after all that's happened….."

"Harvey Dent was going to kill your son, was he not?" I asked, knowing that it was very rude for me to interrupt him, but I needed to get him off of the track that he was on. I did not want him to loathe me, but, at the same time, I could not abide the notion that he might feel as if he ought to console me. There was a great deal that I could abide, but the thought that he might wrap his arms around me, and _comfort_ me was more than I could stomach.

"Yes, he was, and he would have, if Batman hadn't….."

"I think that you mean to say that 'he would have, had' _Bruce Wayne_ not prevented him from doing so, is that not correct, Commissioner?" I interjected, wrestling with the same hostility that I ought to have buried long ago, knowing that Talia had lain with the one that she had sworn revenge upon. I do not know why I cared, I do not know why I wasted my time and energy thinking of past betrayals, but it was an anger that got me every single time.

"I wouldn't have thought that you would still be nursing that grudge after all of the years that have passed," Gordon said, meeting my gaze without flinching, which was impressive, given that I had just growled at him. "Why would you want to hang on to that anger, now that your life is so much better? What could possibly be gained, from living in the past, when your future looks so bright, Ifan?"

He was right, in a way, because there were parts of my future which, did indeed, look very bright, downright sunny, as a matter of fact. Malayna was going to be my wife, and I was going to be there to watch as her stomach grew round with our second child, but what about Maelie? What was her fate going to be? What if her sight could not be restored? My past had molded my present, and it seemed that I was doomed to remain a monster, even though I had tried so hard to change.

No, _no_…I could not allow him to draw me into that sort of thinking. It was too painful for me to allow myself to imagine that everything would be okay. I had suffered too many disappointments in my life already, and I knew that I could not withstand any of the heartache that accompanied having my hopes crushed. It was ironic, was it not, to think that I had once educated Bruce Wayne about the cruelty of hope, and the reality of despair, and how one fed the other, just as it destroyed it, only to now find myself in the deepest, darkest pit of hopelessness?

"What would you have done to stop Dent from killing your son, if _Batman_ had not been there to save his life?" I asked quietly, lifting the mask to my face, so that I could breathe in the memories that still clung to the remnant of my former life. "Would there have been a limit as to how far you were willing to go to ensure that your child was not harmed, that he would survive? Was there any action that would have been too much…or would you have done anything and everything in your power to protect your son from that lunatic?"

I already knew what he would say. I had not asked him what he would have done to protect his child from Dent because I was ignorant of his devotion to his family. I had done so because I needed to get him back on track with the conversation that I was comfortable with, so that he might forget his determination to make me speak of things that were painful to me. I had no doubts about James Gordon's bone deep loyalty to the ones that he loved, both those who shared his blood, as well as those that he had adopted into his brood, but I also knew that he would feel honor bound to defend his position, and that would provide me with the perfect distraction to keep his need to console me at bay…or so I thought.

"I think that you know, just as well as I do, that there are no limits to what a father will do to protect his child, don't you, Ifan?" he asked quietly, bringing the conversation right back to the track that I wanted to avoid like the plague. "Nothing is taboo, not when someone has taken that step and threatened your child. You are willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that they regret that decision, even if it means tearing them limb from limb with your bare hands, as a matter of fact, you would relish doing so, wouldn't you?"

Damn him, he had managed to do just what I had hoped he would not, despite my best efforts to sway him. "Yes, I would love to lay my hands on the monster who has hurt my daughter, Commissioner," I said softly, smiling, just a bit, when I remembered the fear that I had seen in the eyes of those who beheld me as Bane. "I would take my time with him, and educate him on the depths of his iniquities, but what difference would that make to Maelie, now that I have already disappointed her?"

He looked at me for a moment, with an inscrutable expression that caught me by surprise, and then he reached over and wrested the mask, _my_ mask, out of my hands. "I have had enough of you feeling sorry for yourself," he fumed, tossing my past back into the box, where he undoubtedly felt that it belonged. "And I'm sick and _damned_ tired of you rehashing all of the times when you felt that you were wronged. What happened to _Maelie_ was wrong, it was criminal and it was unforgiveable, but it happened, in spite of your efforts, and the attempts of everyone else who loves her, to keep her safe, but you pouting and retreating into your memories isn't going to undo what was done. There is a fight ahead of us, Ifan, but I need your head to be clear and focused if we're going to do this right…do you think that you can do that for me?"

I was at a loss for words, stunned, I believe, was the proper descriptive, though, in hindsight, I do not know why I would be surprised by the confirmation of James Gordon's audacity. After all, he was the same man who had faced down numerous deviants whose appearance and behavior would have felled most men. He had held his own against madmen, including me, and he had refused to back down, so why would I expect him to be afraid of me now?

His words shamed me, because I knew that they were true. When had I allowed myself to become mired in my own misery? What good ever came from self-loathing and self-pity? And, even worse, was the knowledge that I was holding on to all of the wrongs from my past, that I was reliving them, and using them as justification for my actions. What was I going to do next, blame everything on my father, and what he had done to ruin my life? If that was the case, I might as well admit that I was defeated; because there was no way that I could be successful at anything in my life if I was going to fill the shoes of a poor, abandoned, mistreated little boy for the rest of my days, was there?

"You're not the man who wore that mask any longer," he continued, after a few awkward moments had passed by in silence. "Intimidation and fear are not the tools that you need to defeat the one who has hurt our family. You will, _we_ will need cunning and intelligence to sniff them out and it is vital, now, more than ever, that we all stay strong and hold tightly to one another, because if we allow them to split us apart, then nothing else will matter. You may not have wanted a family, Ifan, but you have one anyway, and we're not going to let you go, so you might as well get used to us, and accept that we're in this with you, because we love that little girl, just like she was our own."

The family home was growing smaller, now that John had taken an apartment of his own, more likely than not so that he could have some privacy to be with Barbara out of the reach of her father's eyes and ears, and I wondered if that was why he felt this sudden need to show me his paternal side. Perhaps he was worried that I meant to take my family and leave his home, just as John had left, and Barbara had returned to her home on campus, but I was not planning on going anywhere, at least, not for the time being.

"The mask will always be part of me, Commissioner," I said quietly, breaking my silence, even though there was a part of me that loathed doing so. "One cannot be attached to something as long as I was connected to that mask without a part of it remaining behind, even when it is removed. And whether you agree or not, pain and intimidation are very formidable weapons, and there is nothing that I will hesitate to use, to punish the one who has hurt my family…hmm…_our_ family, as you say."

I could not bring myself to say anything more about our familial bond, and I knew that any words that I attempted would be jumbled and sound false to his ears, so I did not try to force them. I had an idea that he knew the truth, that he heard what I could not say, and he smiled at me, then rose to his feet, to shuffle to the door, giving me one last searching look before he left me alone.

I knew that I ought to have returned to bed right away, I ought to have slid beneath the covers and reached across my daughter, slumbering in the middle, to lay my hand on Malayna's waist. It would be a wonderful way to fall asleep, it would be peaceful and comforting, but for some reason I reached toward the box instead and pulled out my mask.

I held it in my hands for several moments, turning it 'round and 'round, studying it from all sides, before I raised it to my nose and inhaled its familiar scent. I hesitated, for just a moment, and then I took a deep breath and slid it onto my head…that is, I tried to, but the thick hair that covered my head held it at bay, and, even if it had not done so, I would imagine that my beard would have done the same.

Hmm…maybe there was not much of Bane left after all.

Malayna's POV

Everything in Dr. Reinhardt's office looked brand-new, as if she'd just moved into it, and I wondered how much time had passed since she had completed her residency. She seemed awfully young to be practicing medicine, I could tell that she was at least five years younger than I was, maybe even more than that, and I wondered if she was the best choice for the one who was in charge of Maelie's care. It seemed that our case, along with the others, were the sort that would have been given to an older, more experienced physician, but I hesitated to say anything, lest I appear prejudiced against her.

If the truth were to be told, she had been providing excellent care for Maelie, she was patient and soothing and it was obvious that she cared, so I felt awful for having any doubts about her at all, but it was a nagging feeling that refused to leave me, no matter how hard I tried to chase it away. In the end, I decided that it was best for me to wait, and not give a voice to my doubts, until I had proof that there was truly a problem, and I hoped that day never arrived.

"We've run every test known to us, but we can't find anything that would have caused your daughter to go blind so suddenly, with no warning signs at all….."

"I can recall my wife telling you that there was a man at her school who examined her eyes, and I can also remember several instances where I have told you this as well," Ifan said quietly, leaning forward in his chair, so that he could completely capture the doctor's attention, and I groaned, as quietly as possible, when I heard the tone of his voice, the one that said that he was in the mood for an argument. "It is not much of a stretch of the mind, Dr. Reinhardt, that this man was the one who blinded my daughter, given that the other victims shared the same story with the authorities, and I would like to know if any of these tests that you have performed have searched for any trace of what might have been placed into her eyes, or are you simply content to sit back and wait for the solution to come along and….."

I didn't say a word to him; I chose instead to reach out my hand, laying it on his arm and squeezing gently, while I offered an apologetic smile to the doctor. I could understand why he was upset, I knew how hard it was for him to deal with the fact that he hadn't been able to find a way to help our child, but rubbing the doctor the wrong way was not the way to go, and he had to be stopped before he said or did anything that would really make her mad.

"I can assure you, Mr. Rhys, and Mrs. Rhys as well, that we are leaving no stone unturned, and we are doing everything in our power to discover what was done to blind Maelie, as well as the other children. I don't disbelieve your theory about the source of your daughter's affliction, there are too many similarities between it, and the other cases, for it to be a coincidence, but I am not a detective, I am a physician, and the only culpabilities that I can look for are the ones that show themselves in test results."

The muscles in his arm were tensed when I touched him, but they softened as I continued to stroke him, until, finally, they relaxed altogether as he sat back in his chair. "I am not a detective either, Dr. Reinhardt," he said, in a voice that was still hostile in nature, though not nearly as much as it had been just moments before. "I am a father, and my child has been attacked, and I am afraid that I cannot be expected to be cordial and understanding, because I want answers, and you are supposed to be learned in this matter, yet you continue to provide us with not one iota of information that could be useful in bringing us closer to a solution that would heal her….."

"I think that you mean to say _might_ heal her," Dr. Reinhardt interrupted, clearly unconcerned for the surety of her life, though I couldn't say whether it was ignorance or arrogance which encouraged her to say something that was so foolish aloud, when she would have been better off keeping it to herself. "There's no guarantee that she will recover from this, and you need to accept that she may be blind for the rest of her life, Mr. Rhys."

I knew that my touch wasn't going to be enough to calm him down after that, and I turned toward the door and started to yell for Jimmy to help me, moments before Ifan all but leapt to his feet and brought his fists down onto the surface of Dr. Reinhardt's desk. The wood cracked around his hands, some of it pierced his flesh and blood started to trickle from the wound, to pool on the splintered surface, but he gave no indication that he felt the pain at all. He leaned toward the doctor, who stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"I think that you ought to keep those sorts of opinions to yourself, Dr. Reinhardt," he murmured, his voice a dangerous growl that promised that he was on the verge of losing control of himself completely. "My beloved Malayna has gone to the trouble of proving to me that hope can comfort the soul, rather than anguish it, that it can make the heart thrive, rather than rot, and it upsets me to think that you would attempt to make a liar of her."

Disclaimer: The inspiration for the title of this chapter comes from the quote by George Meredith, "We are betrayed by what is false within."


End file.
